99 Miniature Nazgul
by Luinramwen
Summary: Awwww, how CUTE! Title says all, but please read anyways. PG to be on the safe side, who knows what turn this story will take...
1. Zap

A/N - Yes, the title pretty much tells all. I got this idea one day when I was extremely bored, and trying to think up alternate words to 99 Bottles of Beer on The Wall. So read, and enjoy. Note to detail-conscientious readers: for the purposes of the plot, I have given Sauron a body. He doesn't really have one. 

Disclaimer - I own absolutely nothing. I don't even own a house. I live in a jail cell and I am writing this on a borrowed computer. The joys of being a hunted fanfiction writer, eh?

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Chapter 1 - Zap

The sounds of machinery disrupted the calm night of Mordor. Calm being, however, cries of agony from prisoners, screeches from Nazgul, explosions, and evil Orkish laughter - which is not very calm by our standards, but by Mordor standards, it is positively pacific.

Sauron was tinkering with something in his workshop, something that he was positive would make him a fortune after he managed to take over the world and start a franchise of useless technology.* Surrounding his workbench were gleaming gears, levers, blinking red and green lights, the Scythomatic (Mow down your enemies in ten seconds or less!), the Xyptimalleosis (Dances and does your homework!), and the Laser Beam of Doom That Does Things You'd Rather Not Experience Firsthand (Run!!).

In the shadows, nine pairs of mischievous glowing red eyes, in the midst of black robes, glided over to yet another machine that blinked with red lights. "Shh," Nazgul #7 cautioned. "We mustn't alert Sauron."

"This was a stupid idea," grumbled Nazgul #2. "Why do you want to try out this machine anyways?"

"Think of the possibilities!" Nazgul #8 exclaimed in a whisper. "We can spy on the Orcs, we can do all sorts of things that no one has ever done before."

"What button do you press?" Nazgul #3 asked.

"Shh! We have to stand on this platform."

"Don't shove!"

"It's crowded. I've only got one foot on. Is that enough?"

"Ow! Get your elbow out of my eye!"

"Shut up! Ow!"

ZAP!

Sauron looked up hastily from his tinkering, and his eyes widened in disbelief and horror as he saw what his Nazgul had done to themselves. He screamed. "Sweet Melkor! Noooooooooooo!"

"Oops," squeaked the Nazgul.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*Thus the modern economy was formed.

A/N - So whaddya think? Shall I post Ch. 2? Please R/R


	2. Chipmunks, Helium and Munchkins

Disclaimer - I still own nothing, and I am still stuck in this cramped, dark, and damp jail cell. With no food. Please send food. The more I get, the better I will feel, and the more I will write so I can get more food. And maybe if you send me food I won't mind the cold so much...

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Chapter 2- Chipmunks, Helium, and Munchkins

"You nimrods," Sauron fumed, pacing around in front of where his Nazgul stood, hands clasped behind their backs, staring sheepishly at the floor. "Now what am I going to do with you? You've gone and got yourself spliched!* How many times have I told you to never touch my stuff?! How dumb can you get?!"

The Nazgul stood, looking as guilty as undead men with no faces can. Sauron glared down at them.

Glared down at all _99, miniature, 4-inch-tall_ of them. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Sauron groaned, flopping down into a chair. He sprang back up immediately, however, removed the hedgetrimmer he'd just sat on, and flopped back down. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Weren't you gonna send us out to find the Ring?" Nazgul #67 asked in a high-pitched, rather Munchkin-ish voice.

"Not now," Sauron sulked. "Idiots."

"We can still go after it!" enthused another little voice, this time reminding Sauron more of Chip from the Rescue Rangers. Sauron thought it sounded like Nazgul #34 had spoken this time.

"Yeah, and how are you going to do that?" The Lord of Doom snapped.

"We've got the advantage of numbers," #89 offered.

"And not much else. None of you have any brains at all, and your weapons will be useless!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm the boss that's why. Oh, what the hell, this is all useless. Go, go after my Ring. Just don't kill yourselves off into the bargain."

"Thank you!" all the Nazgul chorused. "We won't fail you. We promise!!" They sounded, Sauron realized, like Alvin and the Chipmunks, Chip the Rescue Ranger, someone on helium, and Munchkins, all combined. He was getting a headache. "Remember, don't get yourselves killed. I still need your help, even if you are miniature undead freaks," he told them.

The Miniature Nazgul scattered, running for their horses. Sauron's head dropped into his hands. "Why did I say that? Undead men can't die. That was stupid."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Unbeknownst to Sauron at that time, he would shortly realize that sending them out as the Black Riders was also rather stupid. For starters, there were only nine horses. For another, the horses were each bigger than all of the 99 combined.

The Nazgul approached the stables cautiously, running and hiding whenever they thought they heard Orcs approaching. Understandably, none of them wanted Orcs to see them, their superiors, in this undignified state.

"Shhh," #1 cautioned.

"Shhhhh," went everyone else down the long line of little Nazgul that stretched down the corridor. 

#1 rolled his eyes. "We don't want to spook the horses," he said. "Ok, men. Forward. Choose your horse. Go!"

The Nazgul divided into groups of 11 and slipped under the stall doors, and climbed over some of the lower bars, or through larger knotholes.

Nazgul #22 was wondering vaguely what time it was, and whether it was Time To Eat, when he heard a scream from the adjacent stall.

His group of 11 raced out, little Morgul blades drawn and gleaming like new pins in the torchlight, and into the next stall. Behind them, the others were milling confusedly around the corridor, wondering what on Middle-Earth was going on and whether it was nearly Breakfast Time.

The screams had come from #1's group, whose horse had spooked and was prancing up and down, trampling the little Nazgul in the process.

"Stay back!" squeaked #20, backing away. All that could be seen of #1's group was a smushed wad of little black robes. Slowly, the horse calmed down.

Very carefully, and with cries of pain, #1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 and 10 unstuck themselves from the floor. Nazgul #11 was stuck on the horse's left hind hoof, and all they could see of him was his tiny hand waving feebly. 

"Get back to Sauron," ordered #19. "He'll do first-aid. And get him to send an Orc captain to scrape up #11."

The shaken group of ten scrambled to do as he said.

#'s 12 through 22 stood collecting their wits a moment longer, in silence. Finally, Nazgul # 14 said timidly, "I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*Spliched - to take a large organism and make smaller, exact copies of it, usually through process of a refraberting beam, which scatters the molecules and rearranges them into a new form.


	3. Evil Hungry Robins of Doom

A/N - For the purposes of humour, I have given a few of the Nazgul rather childish (or hobbitish) personalities - well, actually, most of them have been given that. *smiles sheepishly* Ah well, they're so much cuter that way. So this chapter is about the little Nazgul continuing their journey through the perilous land of Ithilien, in search of new steeds to carry them in search of their master's Ring...

Disclaimer - I still own nothing. The prison even owns my clothes. But I'm gonna get out soon. I'm due for parole pretty quickly, which is why they will let me use this computer, which, for those who don't remember, I also do not own.

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Chapter 3 - Evil Hungry Robins of Doom

The little Nazgul wandered, slowly, out of Mordor, leaving #1 through 11 behind, as being squooshed by a horse is not exactly conducive to good health. They wandered down, farther south, into the land of Ithilien, searching for new steeds, as obviously horses would not work at all, and the evil birdies that Sauron had been saving for them when they were still 9 could eat them all in a single bite.

The 88 Nazgul remaining camped down in the hollow of a very large tree's roots for the night, and they had a miniature bonfire going. They squabbled a bit over who would get the last of the marshmallows, and then slowly they drifted off to sleep. Soon little Nazgul snores could be heard echoing throughout the forest.

Nazgul #65 awoke with a start to find himself eye to eye with the very large, feathery face of a robin. His screech woke everyone else up, and in moments the entire encampment of miniature Nazgul was milling around in a panic.

"Hey!" squealed #34, who, if you remember, sounded like Chip the Rescue Ranger. "It's a robin!"

"No duh!" snapped #45. "I thought it was an Oliphaunt."

"You did?"

"No you nitwit! Sarcasm! S-A-R-C-A-S-M!"

"Oh. Well," continued #34, unperturbed, "These could be our new steeds! They're nice, and pretty, and friendly. They don't eat much-"

At that inopportune moment, the robin hopped past #65 and picked up Nazgul #13 in its beak, apparently mistaking him for a worm. "EEEEEK!" squealed poor #13. The bird ignored the fact that #13 had drawn his Morgul blade and was currently stabbing it. In fact, the robin thought it actually felt rather nice, kind of like a primitive form of acupuncture, if there ever was such a thing as acupuncture for robins. Gulp. The robin opened its beak wider and swallowed Nazgul #13 whole.

Dead silence reigned in the clearing. 

"So, they don't eat much, do they?" #78 said sardonically.

"Oops," said #34 meekly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N - I know, I know. Short chapter. Sorry. Ah well, the madness will continue soon. And the Nazgul keep diminishing - in number, not size. "99 miniature Nazgul in Mordor, 99 miniature Nazgul, you take one out, give him a hug, 98 miniature Nazgul in Mordor." Ah the joys of boredom. Yeah, so, ignore that little outburst of song and dance. But don't YOU want to hug a miniature Nazgul? Admit it...


	4. Overaffectionate Wackos From Gondor

A/N - Sorry I have been a little slow in updating this fic. I kinda got writer's block after the third chapter, so I apologize. Thanks for the reviews! I really do appreciate feedback, and it's nice to note that I have a couple loyal readers. (MoroTheWolfGod, are you really planning to sing "99 Miniature Nazgul" on your next car trip? I feel so special!!) Thank you! You are all the best! Everyone gets an entire virtual (drat!) cheesecake because I'm feeling generous today.

Disclaimer - I still own nothing. I'm on parole. What more can I say?

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Chapter 4 - Overaffectionate Wackos From Gondor

"Ah," #35 said in satisfaction. "The White City lies ahead. Maybe there we shall find the Ring."

"Right," snorted #98. "You think that the Ring, which has been missing for ages, is gonna show up in the first city we get to? We're gonna have to terrorize the people into telling us what's happened to it, you take my word for it."

In a long black column the Nazgul marched across the plains to Minas Tirith's gates. A few Nazgul at the front rode on chickadees, which barely managed to skim the ground under the weight of the Nazgul on their backs. As a whole, the Nazgul had decided that chickadees were much less dangerous than robins.

At long last the Nazgul approached the gates, and slipped in among the feet of the many other people going in and out. #56 barely missed being trampled by an exceptionally large man.

After weaving and ducking through the crowd, the Nazgul made it into a quiet alley. Little Nazgul panting echoed down the dark alley.

"So," #43 said finally, "Where should we start looking?"

At that moment a small child toddled into the alley and saw the Nazgul all standing around. The kid's eyes roved curiously over the Nazgul and lit up with happiness. "I want!" the child said decisively. The Nazgul were confused.

"Little! Cute. I want!" the child repeated, reaching out a chubby hand and grabbing at the Nazgul.

They were horrified as they grasped the import of the child's words. "Run!" screamed Nazgul #34. They scattered, but still the little kid was quick enough to nab #12 by the back of his robes. The child lifted Nazgul #12 and cuddled him to his chest, saying, "Nice little guy. Cute!" The small child toddled off, still clutching #12, saying, "You nice. I take home. Mommy like you lots. You see..."

The Nazgul crept out of their hiding places, shocked and silent.

"What can we do?" moaned #21. "This city is a madhouse! A trap! The children are kidnappers, minions of the adults' nefarious will! Whatever can we do?"

"Shhh," warned #97. "There may still be more of the little ones around. We must be cautious. We must be silent. And above all, we must not reveal ourselves to any kids!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Nazgul crept through the streets of Minas Tirith, swords out and at the ready. At every noise that came too close, they started, and ran back into the shadows. Nazgul #14 through 99 were becoming extremely edgy. All their plans so far had amounted to nil. They had only served to lose them more Nazgul than they gained them information about Sauron's Ring.

Trailing along one avenue, with Nazgul #45 in the lead, he suddenly halted dead. Like dominoes, all the other Nazgul hit him and stopped as well. 

"Ow," complained #78. "What was that for?"

"Shhh!" #45 gestured frantically. To the others' surprise, he was trembling.

"Ohhhh, LOOK!" exclaimed a childish voice. "They're so CUTE!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed the Nazgul.

"Sharra, Jerdi, come look! Aren't they adorable?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed the Nazgul again, frozen in spot.

"I wanna take one home for a pet," said Jerdi rapturously. "Momma loves cute little critters too."

"Let's all get some! Pick the cutest ones!" suggested Sharra.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screeched the Nazgul, finally getting their legs in motion and trying to run.

Sharra scooped up #14 and #15. She hugged them to her chest. "You are soooooo CUTE!"

Jerdi chased after # 16 and 17. "Come here, you little cutey boo-boos!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Awww, lookat da liddle sweety guys," cooed the first girl, cuddling #18 and 19.

The other, more fortunate Nazgul scattered, still screaming.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N - Heheheheeee.... I like that chapter. Don't worry, more miniature madness coming up! Click on the little button at the bottom of the screen (It's almost as cute as a miniature Nazgul, don't you think?) and tell me what you think. Give me ideas. Ideas are good. 


	5. Owh, Give Me Ah Howme, Whayr The BuhFahL...

A/N - Soooo sorry I have not updated in a long time. I was celebrating my parole and spring break with a 2-week trip to Italy and Greece. @_@ Wow. I loooove the Mediterranean! So here is the next, long-awaited, (yeah right) chapter of 99 Miniature Nazgul. Please read and review. If you do, you get a double scoop gelato sent to you (your choice of flavour).

Disclaimer - I own nothing except my pictures of Italy and Greece, which, actually, in some parts DOES look an awful lot like Middle-Earth... Anyways, I really do own nothing. Not even my readers' loyalty anymore.

A/N - Yes, gelatos are VERY addictive and delicious. I am in withdrawal after eating at least one nearly every day for two weeks. I would have gained weight had we not been walking pretty much all day too. And yes, I AM sinking to bribery and shameless self-promotion. Hey, it works for other people...

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Chapter 5 - Owh, Give Me Ah Howme, Whayre The Buhfahlow Roawm...

"...Whayre the deeee-ear and the aaan-tell-ope plaaaaay -" sang Nazgul #20.

"SHUT UP!" yelled the other 70 remaining Nazgul.

"Yeesh," muttered #20. "Some people have no appreciation for music."

"Some people don't call that music!" shot back an unidentified voice from the throng of Nazgul.

"Hmph," snorted #20, but he subsided into silence. (At last!)

The Nazgul were desperately trying to relieve the tedium of the forced march to Rohan, to get far away from the city of Minas Tirith. It wasn't working too well. The little terrors remembered all too well the horror of the city, and the whole incident threw a cloak of gloom over the procession. 

Of course, none of them had expected retrieving Sauron's Ring to be easy, but who knew it would be this bad?

"Whayre saldom is hurd, a dis-cor-aygin' wuuuurd -" began #20 again, but very, very quietly. "And the skiiiiyes are nowt clouwdee awll daaaaaaay -"

"Rohan! Rohan straight ahead!" called out #67 happily.

#20 shut up. 

"Yay! Rohan!" cheered the little Nazgul happily.

"Ok," #99 said authoritively, "This means some of us must go north to stop the one who has the Ring, and the others must stay here and persuade Saruman to help."

"Twenty to Sixty-nine, you guys head north. The rest of you, follow me!" said #98.

"Hey! Who put you in charge?" howled #99.

"Who died and made you king?" challenged #98.

"All RIGHT, that's ENOUGH!" bellowed #46. "None of us are leaders! We're a democracy!*"

"What's that?"

"Every one has an opinion and a vote that matters," explained #23, a rather scholarly Nazgul, "as opposed to totalitarianism, or a monarchy, or even, I suppose, a monopoly, though technically monopolies are altogether different structures of reign than that of totalitarianism or a monarchy -"

"Huh?" Every other Nazgul was extremely confused.

"Never mind," sulked #23. "My efforts to enlighten others in their ignorance are vain and worthless. I will not impede your headlong progress with strategy and knowledge."

"Huh?"

"It's like he's speaking Elvish," # 24 confided in a stage whisper to #64.

"You're all a bunch of morons! Is that clear enough for your thick minds to comprehend?"

"Yep!" Every black-cowled head nodded vigourously.

"Good! Now stay out of my way!" #23 stalked off.

"What's a moron?" #64 asked #76.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGH!" screamed #23, throwing a spontaneous temper tantrum.

Slowly, the other Nazgul backed away in horror. When they were a good distance away, they turned and fled as one.

Fled across the plains of Rohan, straight towards the court of Edoras.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N - Ok, that wasn't nice, picking on the one almost intelligent Nazgul. But I had to get rid of him! He just showed up. I think that the Nazgul are much cuter when they're stupid. But if you don't agree, review or e-mail me (remember, you'll get a gelato) and I'll have #23 catch up in a later chapter, just in time to horrify Elrond. |-] 

(Why is it so fun to bug Elrond? He's my fave to pick on, plague with hobbits, Balrogs, etc. Is there a deep, psychological reason for this? Or is it just because I can't take the movie version Elrond seriously because of his freaky eyebrows? I mean, he's saying these very serious things and his eyebrows are hopping around. I keep thinking he's gonna take off one day.)

*This is the first recorded example of a democracy in Middle-Earthian times. There were others later, of course, but none had quite the same motives or quantity as did the Democracy of the Nazgul.


	6. Back AWAY From The Tutu!

A/N- There is nothing that I like better than thinking up new ways to torture the poor miniature Nazgul. |-] This chapter will definitely be proof of that. I hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer - I. Own. NOTHING!! I'm gonna cry now. I should just move to Middle-Earth, so I at least have a fighting chance of getting ONE of the Middle-Earthians interested in me, so I can sorta say I own them - well, at least I'd own their heart! *snorts* As if that would ever happen. 

Next chapter I will be writing from Middle-Earth, the one place most of you would sell your souls to the devil to escape there for just ONE day. Be jealous. Hell, some of you might even consider selling your mother AND your soul to the devil just to escape there for HALF a day, as long as you got to see Legolas at least once. Be VERY jealous. Legolas is living right next door to the place I'm building in Mirkwood...

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Chapter 6 - Back AWAY From The Tutu!

The Nazgul ran for a very long time, before they finally dropped, exhausted, beside a tall clump of grass. At which point, of course, most of them fell asleep. None had gotten much rest since leaving Mordor. (Although the great Tolkien never mentions it, the Nazgul did indeed have need of rest, in order to recharge the batteries that run their glowing red eyes) Before long, they were all snoring little Nazgul snores, happily oblivious to everything around them.

However, when they woke up and counted themselves, they found they were only seventy. Nine Nazgul were missing...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Nazgul #20-30 (excluding, of course, the absent #23) woke up, they found themselves lying on a distinctly feminine-looking four-poster bed in a richly decorated, if slightly befrilled, room. Puzzled, the little terrors looked around.

"What an odd place," remarked #21.

"It looks kinda pink to me, doesn't it?" frowned #30.

#21 looked blank. "Is there something wrong with pink?"

The others started snickering at #21, but stopped abruptly when the door opened, and a beautiful maiden with long golden hair glided in.

"Ooo, _prettiful_!" sighed #25 and #22 in unison.

The maiden smiled. "Hello, little ones. So you have awoken."

The miniature Nazgul all nodded vigorously, still staring at the lovely girl.

"I am Eowyn, a lady of the Riddermark." She sat down on the bed and picked up #24. He gave the others a look that said, 'Sucks to be you!' and continued staring at Eowyn.

"I know not what manner of creature you are, but when I saw you and your companions lying asleep on the plain, I could not help but take a few of you home with me."

"You mean you left the others?" frowned #28.

Oblivious to all that was going on around him, #20 was watching Eowyn and still singing, "Owh, give me ah howme, whayre the buhfahlow roawm..." (#20 wasn't too bright)

"Well, yes. I picked the cutest of you all."

The Nazgul puffed up with pride, until the true realization of what her words meant sunk in.

"Uh-oh," murmured #26.

"So," Eowyn continued, reaching into the bag that had hung, unnoticed until now, at her side, "I got an idea. I have all these lovely ideas for fashion designs, but until now I've had absolutely no one to model them for me. None of the guards wanted anywhere near them, and all the other ladies are too prissy to help me. So I made up a few-" (Here she dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed in a rather large heap of pink, white and purple. Frilly pink, white and purple, nonetheless.) "-miniatures of my ideas. I think they'll fit you nine rather well." Eowyn then proceeded to pull a little shiny, sparkly pink ball gown over the head of the wriggling #24, whom she still held in her hand. She examined the finished product of the dressed-up Nazgul in satisfaction. "Perfect."*

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

"C'mere," Eowyn said, scooping up #28. "You've got the body shape that would fit this little skirt I'm calling a kilt, until I can think up a better name, goregeously."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"

In spite of the Nazgul's protests, Eowyn, smiling happily, fit the kilt onto poor Nazgul #28. (He looked quite ridiculous with his black robes and a tartan skirt, but apparently Eowyn didn't think so.)

"And now I think that you -" She dropped #28 and picked up #27 - "would look absolutely stunning in this dancing outfit I came up with. It's called a ballet costume, and it comes with this adorable little skirt I decided to call a tutu...**"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, the other Nazgul, after searching in vain for the missing ones for a couple hours, decided, with heavy hearts, to continue their journey north to find the Ringbearer, and northeast to speak with Saruman and persuade him to join their master.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*Thus were the first Barbies invented.

**Eowyn was the first true designer of the style of dance we now call ballet. In her boredom at not being allowed to fight with the men, Eowyn came up with some cultural things we can be ever grateful to her for (ballet, skateboarding and poker), as well as things that should best be forgotten (Barbies, Speedos for men, and the concept of the Care Bears)

A/N - Eowyn appears to know the meaning of true man-torture! Ugh. I certainly do hope any guys who are reading this plan to stay far, far away from the Middle-Earth women. But if they catch you - send me the pictures. I need a good laugh.


	7. Awww, How CUTE!

A/N - I know, this story really has no purpose or plot, except to slowly decrease the numbers of the Nazgul, but it's still fun anyways. (No, most of them are not dead, just unlucky thirteen - the others are captives of little kids and crazed fashion designers, or in the hospital at Barad-Dur. It actually doesn't hurt them in the least - it makes them GOOD [the horror!], or semi-insane, if they're the captives of Eowyn)

I had writer's block on this story for a long time. I am very very sorry, and will try to oblige you with a longer chapter.

Disclaimer - I am in Middle-Earth! Currently I am writing this from beside the fire at Bag-End - Bilbo, for some strange reason, has a computer. Perhaps that's because he was a house-guest at Artemis' place for quite awhile. Anyways, I am very lucky he does, because my laptop hasn't come yet (oh that postal service -_-), so I have to stay here until I get it. When it does come, I will probably begin thinking of taking my leave of the Shire, and wandering around for a few years, then picking a place to settle down and building a little house. Pippin says he's going to travel with me. I tell him that if he wants to risk getting eaten by a Balrog, he's welcome to come along. I want to spend a bit of time in Moria, chatting with Balrogs and Orcs and Cave trolls, to find out what the 'evil' side thinks. 

Oh, riiiight. Nearly forgot - disclaimer - I own nothing except the tea-cosy Bilbo gave to me and the potted plant Sam gave me. I feel special. :-)

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Chapter 7 - Awwww, How CUTE!

#30 to 69 continued the long dangerous journey north. There were dangers along the road, to be sure, but the Nazgul managed to elude most of them, being so small. However, one encounter with a raven left them scattered and terrified for days, and it took them a long time to regroup and continue their way north. 

After many months of travelling, the little Nazgul found themselves on the vast stretch of Road between the Shire and Bree. Sniffing the air with their miniature Nazgul noses, they scented their objective perhaps a hundred metres to the east: the Ring. 

Cautiously, the little fellows crept into the bushes. Swearing and cursing in muffled voices, the Nazgul forged their way through the brambles they had unwittingly clambered into and made it to their destination, where four short people with ponies were talking to a man with bright yellow boots, blue clothes and a long brown beard.

"The Ring is there!" #32 shrilled excitedly. "I can feel it!"

The short people heard him. One of them hurried over and pushed the bushes aside. His jaw dropped, then he chuckled with amusement. "Sam, Frodo, Merry: come look at this!"

The others hurried over as well. "Awwww," said one. "They're so CUTE!!"

The Nazgul knew too well what that meant. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" they screamed as one and tried to run away.

Unfortunately, these _were_ brambles they were 'hidden' in, and their tiny robes were impaled on the thorns. Though the Nazgul struggled hard, they could not escape. They tried everything, but still they remained stuck fast. If they hadn't been wraiths, the thorns would have impaled _them_ as well.

"I think I'm going to keep one," said the one the Nazgul could sense the Ring in.

"Me too!" said the short person who had discovered the Nazgul.

"Me too!" said one of the other short people.

The heftier one shook his head and said firmly, "I ain't pickin' up no rabid critters. For all you know they could come from the Black Land. It's not safe. I don't trust 'em. They've got a queer look to them."

"They're too small to do much damage, Sam," assured the Ringbearer, picking up Nazgul #34 and dropping him in his pocket.

The other two, Merry and the other, also picked up Nazgul, #37 and 58. 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed the Nazgul. The three captives shivered with horror, but there was nothing they could do except hope the short people would be kinder masters than Sauron.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nazgul #34 cowered in the bottom of the Ringbearer's pocket, until he looked up and realized that something large and golden was resting beside him.

"Master's Ring!" Desperately, the Nazgul began heaving at the dead-weight of the Ring, but in the pocket he could not gain a solid foothold, and besides, the Ring was extremely heavy. He strained again. 

Nothing. He heaved harder. 

All he gained for his effort was enough perspiration to make his grip slip, and the Ring tip over on him. He struggled to push it away from him, and finally succeeded.

Huffing and puffing, the little Nazgul was finally forced to give up any effort to steal the Ring in exhaustion. 

He glared at the large gold circle beside him with hatred. It figured that the one Nazgul to get his hands on the whole point of the journey, the Ring, couldn't even lift the darn thing.

The little fellow sunk, pouting, to the bottom of the pocket, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling noisily. Nazgul #34 had decided to begin a major sulk-fest.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Frodo," Pippin said. "Your pocket's complaining."

Sam gave Pippin an odd look and hurriedly began striding on ahead. These new creatures, he firmly believed, would bring them nothing by trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"We must try to get the others back!" cried Nazgul #56 in horror. "We cannot abandon them to such a fate."

The rest of the little Nazgul nodded their heads fervently.

"We must head to the town," he continued. "Then maybe we can form a rescue plan. Sauron would not be pleased at all the losses we have suffered."

"We'd better get into Bree," decided #64, oblivious to what #56 had just said. "That's where the short people are heading."

"That's what he just said!" #64 was smacked upside the head by #32. "And they're hobbits, not short people! Weren't you listening to Sauron? Don't you listen to _anyone_?"

"No," #64 admitted. He was smacked upside the head again, this time by #54.

"Hey!" #64 complained. "What was that for?"

"That was for being stupid," #54 told him.

"ALL RIGHT!" bellowed #56. "Let's get going or we won't be able to get through the palisade into Bree at all!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The other half of the Nazgul had a much shorter journey than the others. Though it still took several days to get to the foot of the Misty Mountains, and safely past the eaves of Fangorn Forest, the little Nazgul were well on their way to Isengard until a loud banging sound startled the miniature Nazgul and they fled towards the dark forest of Fangorn.

The ground was rough, and the little Nazgul stumbled frequently, over rocks, tree-roots, twigs, their robes, and each other. The Nazgul were too terrified of the loud banging sounds issuing from Isengard to complain, however. Nor did they stop to rest or regain their bearings. Their flight was heedless and noisy. They were so small that everything seemed a threat to them, especially big noises and big creatures.

But they had barely gone a mile into the forest when the earth shook beneath them. Several Nazgul lost their balance, and the others cowered fearfully as a giant, root-like foot slammed down beside them. The small wraiths lost their composure completely and shrieked in terror.

"Hoom, hum," rumbled a great voice. "Let's not be hasty now. What have we here?"

A great, leafy hand swooped down and swept up the small, terrified, Nazgul.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N- heh, heh, heh... a cliffhanger. Well, not much of one, but I'm not much of a fanfic writer. Blecch. At least I'm over my writer's block. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Entdraught? How Kind!

A/N - I have seen a miniature Nazgul! In the Westerlee Cafe in Sayward, on Vancouver Island. It was this little clay figure, and he was holding a book! I have found the model for Nazgul #23. I'm so pleased. They really ARE cute.

I apologize once again for my lousy updating habits. I was on an HP rampage for nearly a month, thanks to Book #5, so my LoTR fics were kinda put on hold. Plus I've been camping a lot (This really _has_ been a travelling year for me). A thousand thanks for any reviews. I really do appreciate feedback.

Disclaimer - *Empties pockets and mini-Nazgul tumbles out* aHA, I knew I owned somthing! C'mere, small Ringwraith, miniature terror of Middle-Earth...

****

Chapter 8 - Entdraught? How Kind!

Miniature snores were cut off abruptly from Frodo's pocket as the small Nazgul awoke, sensing something amiss. The Ring was missing. He could smell things in the air: smoke, rain, subtle power, and something far worse - someone who desperately needed a bath.

#34 poked his black-cowled head out of the hobbit's pocket. 

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, mister Underhill," said a low voice on the other side of the hobbit.

"Hey!" squeaked #34. "What's going on?"

"What is that?" said the new voice. It did not belong to a hobbit.

"This?" #34 heard Frodo say. "Oh, just something I picked up on the Road." The Nazgul was lifted from the hobbit's pocket. #34 lost his balance and fell flat on his rear.

He stared up at the shadowed, weathered and dirty face above him.

"Ohhhh, it's CUTE!" said the man, grinning idiotically. "Where'd you find it? I want one!"

"There were a whole bunch of them," the hobbit said.

"It looks like a little Ringwraith, only a hundred times cuter," said the man.

"I _am_ a Ringwraith!" yelled #34 in a fury. "A Terror of Middle-Earth! The Scourge of the Shire! The Servant of Sauron! Fear me!"

At this moment the other hobbits appeared. Sam glared at the mini-Ringwraith. Everyone else just looked at the Nazgul and said, "Awwwwwwwwww..."

#34 decided to continue his sulk-fest. Life (or unlife, as it were) was just not fair.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"_Hoom, hom_," said the great voice, examining the small Nazgul as they cowered in the gigantic leafy palm of the Ent Treebeard, "You are very strange creatures. I have not seen your like before, but let us not be hasty. Tell me, what are you?"

"WE ARE NAZGUL!" yelled #72.

"Nazgul? You are servants of Sauron? But you are much too small. I remember the Nine Riders of Mordor from the long years of darkness, and though you bear a likeness to them, that is all."

"WE - ARE - _NAZGUL_!" screeched # 84. "WE GOT SPLICHED!"

"Spliched? How painful_, hoom, hoom_. Do not get angry, small ones, I will not hurt you. Anyways you do not appear to be dangerous! Come, I shall take you back to my Ent-house and you shall tell me your tale. Nazgul you may be, but I am not afraid of creatures so tiny."

For many long, wearying Ent-strides, Treebeard walked through Fangorn, bearing the small Ringwraiths carefully in the upturned palms of his giant hands. If they were indeed Nazgul, he would rather keep an eye on them. Besides, they were rather adorable now that they were so tiny.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wake up, small ones," came Treebeard's rumbling voice. "We have arrived."

The Nazgul had fallen asleep out of boredom on the long trek, and now they tumbled out of Treebeard's hands onto a table inside a large cavern, the ceiling dappled with green and golden light. They stretched, yawned, and looked around.

"This is nicer than Minas Tirith," remarked #99 to #87. #87 nodded fervently. He had just escaped the mercies of the children of Minas Tirith, and he wasn't about to forget that place in a hurry.

"Now, let me get settled, and one of you shall tell me all that has been happening to you."

#67 began, his high, Munchkin-like voice echoing eerily around the Ent-house. When he was done, Treebeard remained silent for a few moments. "Hmmm, I was right, it seems. Trouble has again been brewing, and the Ents must protect their forests. Though we do not like to take action, it seems that we must do something if we are to survive the scourges of Saruman and the armies of Mordor. Small ones, you must be tired. Your kind always are. If you wish to take refreshment and then sleep you are welcome."

A wave of squeaking agreement sent Treebeard for a large bowl filled with a clear liquid that looked almost like water. The Nazgul gazed at it suspiciously. It looked as big as a swimming pool to them.

"It is only Entdraught," Treebeard reassured them.

Cautiously, the Nazgul jostled nearer and looked into the bowl. With a shriek as someone pushed him, #70 fell in with a splash. 

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEglub! glub!" 

The little Nazgul gasped for air as he surfaced. Treading Entdraught, he beamed at his companions and squeaked, "It's GOOD!"

With yells of relief, the little Nazgul dove in.

Treebeard watched the antics of the Ringwraiths, barely managing to suppress Entish laughter. The Nazgul were certainly amusing little creatures, whatever else they might be.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N - Yeah, I know it's a shorter chapter than the former one but I'm recovering from writer's block and an obsessive HP rampage, so please forgive me. If you've read OoTP, go to my friend Erenriel the Elven Canuck's story, The Tenth Ringwraith, her newest chapter, and find out what our response to it is. I'm in it - she read my mind! Plus it's funny, and we're friends so we hype each other's stories.


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